


One day or seven - it's all the same, right?

by julilihatfun



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Caring Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Delirium, Fever, Fluff and Angst, Hallucinations, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Needs a Hug, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Sick Jaskier | Dandelion, Sickfic, Tired Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:40:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23260354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julilihatfun/pseuds/julilihatfun
Summary: From my tumblr: "Prompt? Geralt leaves Jaskier in an inn on the promise he will return but is gone for a week. When he comes back, Jaskier is sick with fever and passed out on the floor or in the bathtub close to drowning (whatever you choose!) Bonus: Geralt left having a slight feeling that something was already wrong with Jaskier but left on the hunt anyway, cueing guilty feelings."orJaskier is delirious and has really, REALLY missed Geralt
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 7
Kudos: 364





	One day or seven - it's all the same, right?

**Author's Note:**

> Guys I've been stuck in my tiny flat all alone for over a week and am slowly going crazy (BUT obviously am NOT going out bc that would be stupid hah) so please leave me prompts (my tumblr is: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/julilihatfun)
> 
> other than that: stay save PLEASE

“Don’t wait up.”, Geralt had said to the bard, briefing him like some men might would their helpless housewifes, stuck in an unhappy marriage. Except Jaskier and him are not married – even though it sometimes feels a bit like they are, with Jaskier pretty much attached to him at all times, their pointless bickering and most importantly: them sharing beds whenever they’re short of coin. _Point is_ : they are not, so Geralt had kind of expected Jaskier to survive a day or two without him – having imagined him drinking ale and frantically trying to make everyone that stands to close to him like him. Jaskier is like that: clingy and desperate for attention. And Geralt tries not to give him too much of it, because if he spoils the bard too much, it usually backfires – additionally, he already cares to damn much about the fragile human than it is healthy for someone in his profession to do. If Jaskier gets his way, Geralt would probably never be taken seriously again – and that could get really dangerous really fast.

“How long will you be gone?”, Jaskier had asked, eying him with his stupidly blue, big puppy dog eyes, still frustrated at being denied the opportunity to trail along (and probably get killed in the process).

“Probably ‘till morning – possibly even a bit longer. Just stay here and don’t get in too much trouble.”

And Jaskier had gasped in his usual, dramatic way, theatrically clutching his chest. “Geralt I would never!” Then, he had eyed Geralt, a hint of seriousness in his gaze. “Be careful, yeah?”

“Hm.”

“See you tomorrow, then!”

Yeah. That had been _six days ago_. The fucking beast had been much more difficult to find than Geralt had expected and it had been a real pain in the ass to kill.

So as Geralt steps into the inn, nearly a week later, he wants nothing more than to just take a long, hot bath and then sleep for two days straight. Maybe eat a nice, hot meal.

The keeper of the inn – a nice, middle-aged woman with a kind smile – greets him in an uncommonly warm way. “Witcher!”, she simpers. “I think we are most indebted to you.”

Geralt shrugs. “The mayor already paid me plenty.”

The woman laughs. “I am talking about myself and my family. Your lovely companion brought in more paying guests this week than we ever had before.”

Geralt grunts in irritation. He just wants to _rest_. Not have pointless conversations about stuff that barely concerns him. Although – he guesses, that Jaskier probably made a fair bit of coin too, which _is_ much needed.

“It’s a shame we have not seen any of him since the day before yesterday.”, she continues. “Send him down here if you do catch a hold of him, would you dear?” This does grab Geralts attention.

“What?”

“Probably needed his peace, the poor boy. He did look awfully tired.”, she says, thoughtfully. “You do too, come to think of it. Have something to eat? On the house, of course.”

Geralt shakes his head absentmindedly. “Not… right now. Send something up later, maybe?” He tries to make his face look friendly(ish). “Thank you.”

Then he turns and stalks up the stairs. Hiding away was so unlike Jaskier, that it sends wave after wave of uneasiness through his entire body. With every horrible scenario that enters his mind, his pace quickens and the exhaustion he had felt before is long forgotten.

When he bursts through the door, he is met with silence and a weird smell that is heavy in the air.

“Jaskier?”

More silence. He searches the room for any sign of the bard. The first thing he sees, is the lute, which is a clear indication of Jaskier not being far away. Unless someone broke in and-

The heavy pile of blankets on the bed is slightly jostled from within and Geralt rolls his eyes. Right, not kidnapped then.

“Jaskier, what the hell is going on?” This might be good. Maybe Jaskier is just _really_ hungover.

Geralt takes two big steps and yanks the heavy duvet away, fully revealing Jaskier. But he barely has the chance to look at Jaskier, before the bard snaps awake, desperately trying to untangle his feet, that were still stuck in the ball of blanket at the end of the bed, and letting out a girly scream.

“Step away!” Jaskiers voice is raspy, but unwaveringly steely – so much so, that Geralt thinks his bard would have anyone else fooled.

“Or what?”, Geralt chuckles. “You’ll write another song about me?”

Jaskier finally manages to fully turn and sit up. He catches sight of Geralt and gasps, jumping up and stumbling towards the Witcher in order to grab one strand of Geralts hair in fascination. “Geralt.”, he whispers. “You’re real.”

Geralt stares at Jaskiers shaking fingers still tangled up in his locks and furrows his brows. “Yes.”

Jaskier looks up. His eyes look dull and glassy. “I thought you-“ He breaks off with a deep breath, that he releases with a shudder. He is swaying on his feet, his face looking ghastly.

“What happened?”, Geralt sighs, putting his hand on Jaskiers shoulder to steady him. He frowns at the heat that radiates through Jaskiers shirt and moves his palm up to the bards red-tinged cheek.

“Jaskier you-“, he starts, but then Jaskier throws himself forwards and locks his arms around Geralts muscly torso, burying his face in his collar.

“I thought you’d _died_.”, Jaskier whispers and then, to Geralts great horror, lets out a sob.

Geralt awkwardly pats the bards back. “Hunt took longer than expected.”, he grunts. “You should have asked for a healer.”

“I was _mourning_.”, Jaskier mumbles into his chest. Like it was obvious and Geralt can’t bet but roll his eyes again.

“How long have you felt like this?”

Jaskier shrugs weakly. “Dunno.” He snuggles up more closely towards Geralt. “What day’s it even?”

Geralt rolls his eyes. “God, you’re delirious.”

“Yeah.”, Jaskier chuckles dreamily. “Thought you came back y’sterday, but then ‘t was jus’ a-“, he breaks off, frowning for a moment. “Halluci-something!”, he finished, giggling manically now.

“Okay.”, Geralt says, at a loss for words. This might be more serious than he had first assumed. Jaskier had stopped laughing in order to gasp for breath, slumping against Geralt heavily now.

“Okay.”, Geralt repeats. “Lay back down, yeah?”

“Mhh, sounds nice.”, Jaskier approves, but does not move away from Geralt.

Geralt lets out a long breath to calm himself down before removing Jaskiers arms from around his middle.

“Hey!” Jaskier moans in indignation. “Not lettin’ you go ever ‘gain.”

“Yeah, more like I’m never leaving you unattended ever again. Get in bed.”

The bard grumbles unhappily, but let’s Geralt manhandle him back under the covers. When he looks up at the Witcher then, his eyes look a bit clearer and disturbingly serious. “Stay?”

“Hm.”

It may not be a real promise to anyone else, but Jaskier understands. Relaxes.

Geralt mentally bids goodbye to the idea of sleep in the near future and starts to gather some herbs from his bag, brewing what he hopes will get Jaskier back to his feet quicker.

He kind of hopes that Jaskier will doze of soon, but the bard just keeps on chattering away, stringing together sentences that are barely sensible.

“Have to tell me all ‘bout… y’ know… monsters and stuff.” or “It’s _real_ ’… freezy here.” – but mostly just different variations of: “’m sooo glad that tha’ ‘ur back”

“You should really try to rest.”, Geralt repeats, when he has given up on waiting for Jaskier to get tired of talking on his own. He kind of enjoyed the familiar blathering after a week worth of having nothing but his own thoughts to distract him from the absolute silence around him, but that did not implicate that he has to humour Jaskiers inability to shut up.

“No.”, Jaskier frowns. “You might vanish ‘f I go t’ sleep.”

“Not a hallucination, Jask.”, Geralt mutters for what feels like the thousandth time.

“You dun’ know that…”

Geralt rolls his eyes. “Kind of think I do.”

Jaskier moans in obvious disbelief and Geralt decides to let him be. He needs to focus on the medicine.

When he has poured the liquid down Jaskiers throat and moves to finally set up his sleeping roll on the floor, fingers weakly wrap around his wrist.

“Lay down w’ me?”, Jaskier pleads, and Geralt hesitates. “Be sensible Jaskier. The bed’s too small and you need real rest.”

But asking Jaskier to be sensible is probably a major mistake on his part he decides, as the bards eyes water.

“Have t’- have to… feel you.”, Jaskier whimpers. “Know ‘ur _really_ here.”

Geralt sighs, silently hoping that his herbs will do their job soon as he pushes Jaskier closer to the edge of the bed in order to make room for himself. “You’re awful.”, he says, but it sounds to fond, that he almost doesn’t recognize his own voice.

Jaskier latches onto him before his head even touches the pillow and the heat that radiates from the bard is majorly concerning. Geralt rubs Jaskiers shoulder in what he hopes is a comforting manner and Jaskier cuddles up closer.

“Sleep now. Get better.”, Geralt grunts and Jaskier nods.

“’K.”

And when Jaskier gasps awake close to ten hours later, he is still curled into Geralts side, feeling more rested than he has in days, blinking confusedly.

The Witcher jerks out of sleep too, instinctively curling his arm more tightly around Jaskiers body. They are both sweaty and gross, but Jaskier does not feel as hot anymore and Geralt feels incredibly relieved.

“Well, congrats on no longer being in danger of frying your brain.”, Geralt huffs.

“Thank you?”

It’s obvious that Jaskier only has a vague idea of what went down in the last day or two.

Geralt sighs and untangles himself from the bard in order to grab the jug from the nightstand. He helps Jaskier into a sitting position and pushes the waterfilled pitcher into his hands carefully.

He watches Jaskier drink for a moment, deep in thought. Then, he sighs again. “Sorry for making you worry.”

Jaskier looks up, startled. He stops chugging the water greedily and furrows his brows. “You didn’t do it purpose.” He pauses. “Did you?”

“’Course not.”, Geralt agrees. He takes in Jaskiers still-too-pale face and the way his sweat-soaked curls stick to his forehead and curls his lips unhappily.

“You’re awful at taking care of yourself, by the way.”

Jaskier huffs. “You’re one to talk!”

**Author's Note:**

> what a ride


End file.
